Control
by shywrxter
Summary: Prompt from tumblr. Sam is just using his fingers to get Dean off, and Dean is a jerk who likes to get Sam riled up just for his own personal pleasure. Explicit Wincest. Oneshot. Bottom!Dean.


**Prompt**: Sam is just finger fucking Dean (ass in the air) pounding his long finders into his prostate and Dean just comes on that alone.

* * *

><p>Dean didn't usually do this; give up control. He wasn't the type to let go and let someone else take the lead. He was always the leader type; he always wanted to be in charge of any situation.<p>

But this was different.

Sam was different.

He would gladly give into Sam any day when it came to sex. It was little known that Dean preferred to bottom when it came to sex, but it was nothing he would admit to. It was just nice to feel like he was being taken care of rather hen the other way around between the two somedays. Dean would die for Sam, that much was obvious, but it was rare that he'd let his brother actually try and focus attention on him and make sure that he's in the right state of mind or is just alright in general. Sam knew this; so he never brought it up or teased him about how he preferred to bottom, the youngest Winchester knew how Dean would react if he did. Probably some swearing, Dean insisting he was man enough to top, then proceed to "prove" his manliness by hitting on every girl in sight.

Sam didn't mind Dean's subtle flirting; he'd grown quite used to it over the years of them being together. He knew that Dean would be coming home with only him, so he never let himself get angry over it easily. But there were times where Dean would push him to his limit.

Tonight was one of those nights where he wanted to tease Dean until he fell apart completely. He wanted him to cum just on Sam's fingers, no real fucking included. This was because Sam had to watch Dean flirt with a cute waitress almost all night, the youngest Winchester had felt invisible for almost the entire night. He had to drag Dean out of that shady bar at around one; fed up with watching the girl flash her tits at him and Dean doing nothing to repel her advances. They didn't make out, at least.

He knew just the right ways to touch and caress his older brother; how to nudge him gently to the edge then send him toppling over.

"S—Sammy," Dean moaned into the lumpy pillow on the motel bed, muscled arms gripping said pillow tight. He arched, a needy whimper slipping past his plump lips as he pushed back against the long fingers invading him. "Pl—Please, c'mon… Put it in already, goddamnit!"

Sam smirked from behind his brother, "I don't think so, big brother. You're going to cum on just my fingers and my fingers alone," he murmured. Sam had on his jeans and boxers still, while Dean was bare ass naked and spread out on all fours, ass in the air. Sam's index finger and middle finger were buried knuckle deep inside of him, and he was leisurely pumping them in and out; massaging the walls of Dean's entrance and watching the man squirm beneath his ministrations.

"Sa—ah…" Dean didn't even have the mind to object to this, too lost in the pleasure. He rested his forehead on his forearms, letting out gasps and moans as Sam twisted his fingers in just the right way. But when Dean reached down to touch himself, his wrist was grabbed by Sam and pinned to the mattress.

"Nope, no hands on your cock either."

Dean almost wailed in protest, but he couldn't speak. Instead, a loud gasp escaped his lips when the tips of Sam's long fingers grazed over his prostate. It wasn't enough; not nearly enough. He pushed back on those fingers, but Sam wouldn't budge, instead pressing his front against Dean's back and whispering into his ear, "Shh, relax and enjoy it, big brother."

Dean groaned, "Fucker."

Sam chuckled in response; instead of giving back a witty retort, he added a third finger. Dean moaned and squirmed, burying his face into the pillow he was clutching desperately at and pushing back eagerly again those fingers invading him. He was so hard it hurt, his cock was leaking obscenely, precum dripping from the tip and unto the mattress beneath him. He tried to lower himself to rub his aching cock against the sheets, but Sam forced his hips back up.

"Pl— Please Sammy, ahh!" Dean bucked back and lurched forward a bit as his fingers rubbed purposefully over his prostate, his body spasm ing and a particularly loud moan falling from his lips, "I can't take any more..."

"You can do it," Sam murmured, partially entranced with the image of how sexy Dean looked; ass in the air, muscled arms wrapped around the musty pillow, forest green eyes fogged with lust as he stared back desperately at his younger brother, thighs quivering, lips parted as his moans tumbled out. The man was a living and breathing wet dream. He was sexy in every sense of the word; no question about it.

And he was all Sam's.

Sam continued to slam his dexterous fingers against Dean's prostate, this time with a bit more gusto. As his pace with his fingers quickened, the more Dean came undone beneath him. "Sam! Oh god, I— I can't—"

Sam leaned down and murmured softly into his ear, "Come for me, just like this, big brother." He gave his lobe a nip and a small lick to add to the sensations. His older brother bucked against him, seeming to spasm for a moment from all the pleasure. Dean pushed back determinedly against those amazing fingers before he let out a scream of pleasure and his cock twitched obscenely as he came.

His face was beet red, his thighs quivering with the effort to keep himself up. Eventually, Sam reached down with one of his big hands to pump his length through the after shocks, making Dean squirm and moan a bit more. Once he was entirely spent, cum staining the sheet beneath him, he slumped to the bed.

Sam laughed and went down with him, pulling his older brother to his chest and kissing the top of his head, "Like a horny teenager Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Shut up, bitch."

"Jerk."

They exchanged smiles and kissed, nice and long and romantic and all that shit. Maybe the people at hallmark know what they're talking about after all.

"Sorry about the waitress," Dean suddenly says when they part for air, staring up guiltily into the eyes of his older brother.

Sam tilted his head; huh. He'd nearly forgotten about her, "I don't care about that Dean. It's fine."

Dean seemed to blush a bit, "I just love how aggressive you get when you're jealous—"

"Wait, you did all that on purpose?" Sam cut him off, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged and looked down sheepishly, "It's just uh, we haven't done anything since our last hunt about a week ago. And I kind of missed you in that way—"

Sam let out a disbelieving chuckle and shook his head, "You are unbelievable," he says, but his voice held kind amusement. He leaned down and pressed their lips together again, his hand cupping his hips, "You are so going to get it for the rest of the night."

Dean smirked in reply, looking eager but sly as well, "Bring it, baby boy."


End file.
